


As Time Goes By

by crisiskris



Series: The World Will Always Welcome Lovers [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus makes a cameo appearance, Ghost love, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 18:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crisiskris/pseuds/crisiskris
Summary: Severus and Sirius finally have a chance to explore their relationship.





	As Time Goes By

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "A Kiss is Just a Kiss". Originally archived on the Thin Line. Written before the last two books came out and not canon-compliant.

  
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> Well, it's still the same old story   
> A fight for love and glory   
> A case of do or die   
> The world will always welcome lovers   
> As time goes by  
>  ~John Lennon, “A Kiss is Just a Kiss (As Time Goes By)”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

**The end.**

At one point, Lucius asked him if it hurt much to die. It was the first time Severus realized that he was, in fact, dying. Up until that point, he hadn’t really grasped the true meaning of the tortures he’d endured; the agonies and the horrors inflicted upon him had been isolated events, not really leading anywhere. Now he realized that there was an end in sight: his death. But it was going to be a long time coming.

“Of course it bloody well hurts!” he gasped back, so overdosed on Veritaserum that he couldn’t have lied had he wanted to, and Lucius smiled.

“Good,” the blond man hissed, and stalked away. Lucius was upset because, although he’d been the one to finally reveal the traitor, he hadn’t been able to keep Severus from obliviating himself. With one spell Severus had wiped his mind free of any knowledge that could be remotely useful to the Death Eaters. He could remember complex healing potions in detail, but none of the poisons. He could recall every word of the inane small talk he’d been forced to sit through before Order meetings, but none of the meetings themselves. He could list all the Weasley children in order of increasing stupidity (starting at Percy and working his way down to that Quidditch loving fool Charles), but he couldn’t recall where they were or what they were doing for the Light.

In short, he was useless except as a venue for relieving frustrations, which was how Lucius had been using him ever since he’d been captured.

Occasionally, Malfoy would let him sleep, and he would have dreams about a big black dog. He couldn’t consciously remember why the dog was important, because it was information that he knew Lucius would be able to use to undermine Albus Dumbledore, although of course he couldn’t remember how. But he did know that he liked the big black dog for some reason, and he knew that the dog was waiting for him, wherever it was. It brought him some measure of peace.

There was no way to tell how much time was passing. Sometimes he would come into himself to find his body surrounded by dark figures in white masks and he would know that a dark revel had been called. He was a regular source of entertainment at such events; the Death Eaters would take turns casting curses on him to see how long he’d last without losing consciousness. He’d taken to providing feedback on their form: “a bit heavy-handed, McNair”, “Subtle as usual, Lucius”. They enjoyed it immensely. Severus knew without a doubt that he had lost most of his mind; he would go back and forth between being pleased that he could make them laugh and furious that they were laughing at him.

Sometimes the physical pain was unbearable and there would be nothing but blackness.

It was during one of these times that a man appeared before him. He was tall, thin, and rough-looking, but in a handsome sort of way, with dark, thick hair hanging about him like a mane. Severus was reminded of the big black dog, though he couldn’t say exactly why. The man had pale eyes, and those eyes were watching him sadly. “Hello, Severus,” the man said, in a soft voice.

“Hello,” Severus said back. They stood and watched each other for a while.

“I know you can’t remember now,” the man finally said, “But I promise you, this will be over soon, and then you’ll know.” And as he finished that, the man approached Severus and put his arms around the dying man, holding him carefully. Severus was surprised to realize that he was comforted by the touch. It had been a very long time since touch had meant anything but pain. “You have to go back now,” the man whispered after a moment, releasing him.

“Will I see you again?” Severus asked, feeling a spike of loss jet through him.

The man smiled, “Oh yes,” he replied, and his eyes held a glint of something Severus couldn’t quite place, but it excited him…

He woke to the sound of Lucius’s voice crying, “Enervate!” and wanted to weep, but didn’t. He opened his eyes to meet Malfoy’s cold glare. “You won’t die except on my command, traitor,” Lucius told him, kicking him in the ribs. Severus didn’t have the breath to reply.

He spent less and less time in his body. Mostly he just floated in a grey place, feeling nothing, barely thinking, concentrating on the feeling of blood rushing through his heart and air inflating his lungs. Sometimes, when the pain was terrible, he sank all the way to black, where the dog would be waiting for him. Once or twice he actually felt himself leave his body, staring down at some Death Eater as his skin was cut, burned, and cursed over and over again. He felt as though a string attached him to the body, but pull as he might, he couldn’t get the string to break.

“Can’t I die, please?” he begged Lucius once, forgetting that he had decided never to beg. Lucius just smiled and walked away.

That night, Severus slept, a real sleep, for the first time in a long time. He flitted into the dream world, looking for his dog, but he found the man instead. “I know you,” he said suddenly. “You’re Sirius Black.” The man nodded, saying nothing. “The Obliviate spell must be wearing off,” Severus continued, a worried look in his eyes. “I’ll tell them everything!” He jumped up, anguished, and Black stopped him from pacing.

“Don’t be afraid, Severus,” he said gently. “It’ll be over soon.”

The first thing that Severus said when he awoke was, “I dreamed about Sirius Black.” Fortunately, there was no one in the room to hear him.

The Oblivate spell was indeed wearing off though, and soon Severus was able to remember things that he thought had been permanently missing from his memory. Mostly it was technical knowledge that he regained – the things that he knew best, after all – and he found himself giving step-by-step instructions for creating the most deadly poisons known to wizardkind to Death Eaters who could barely spell their own names. He felt regret about this, but as his memory of potions returned, so did the knowledge that he had taught Dumbledore the antidotes to many of the poisons, which alleviated the guilt. Besides, Lucius didn’t really care much for poisons – they weren’t practical weapons in an open war. He wanted information. Severus bolstered up the remaining protections of his mind, weakened as they were, and prayed that he’d die before he remembered anything important.

He began to have trouble breathing, coughing constantly, waking himself in the night while the hacking wracked his body. He began to retch on the vile mucous that had built up in his lungs. After a few days, or was it weeks, of this, he noticed there was blood flecking the black sludge he coughed up. He could no longer scream when they tortured him, because he could barely speak. He hadn’t the air for it.

Lucius seemed to sense the end was nearing, because he eased up on the torture. He wanted information before the Potions master died, and he knew that abusing his body further would just push the man away too quickly. He came in every evening with a goblet of water – Severus had long since been unable to eat anything solid – and a cool cloth for the dying man’s forehead. A bit of kindness before the end, Severus thought, smiling weakly.

Lucius bathed his brow gently, cooing at him, “Just tell me one thing, Severus, just tell me where the Order meets”, “Just tell me how Harry Potter plans to attack the Dark Lord”, “Just tell me how to get past the wards at Hogwarts”. But none of these details were things that Severus could remember. He told him all about Fluffy, the three-headed dog, and the way in which the centaurs had turned against the wizards at Hogwarts, but he couldn’t tell Lucius what he really wanted to know. Sometimes Lucius would get angry enough that he’d strike the broken man, sending his body crashing to the ground, but Severus couldn’t really feel it.

After a while, he began to see a shadow by the edge of his bed. It looked like a big black dog, waiting for him. He smiled at it, and he thought it might have smiled back, if dogs could smile. No one else seemed to be able to see it, although when he told Crabbe about it once, the big man shook his head and turned to someone else, muttering, “He’s on his way out, finally, isn’t he?” Severus was surprised to hear it; dying had seemed so painful before, and everything was so painless now that he had thought he was getting better.

One night, he closed his eyes, and never opened them again. Lucius came to bathe his brow, and couldn’t revive him.

Three days later, Severus Snape was dead.

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At first everything was black, and then it slowly faded into grey. Severus was walking through a fog thicker than he’d ever known upon the moors; he couldn’t see anything in front of him. Occasionally he could hear murmuring voices, but when he turned to them, they drifted off.

Gradually the fog began to lift and he could make out the shapes of people standing all around him. It took a few minutes for his eyes to focus enough to pick out details about them. Most of them were strangers, but some were familiar – there was Evan Rosier, with his back turned, wandering aimlessly. Severus shivered, remembering the treatment he’d so recently received at the hands of other Death Eaters, and walked quickly in the opposite direction. He came nearly nose-to-nose with a thin, lanky man with mussed up black hair and thick glasses. “Potter,” he gasped. “You can’t be dead. You have to kill Voldemort.”

The other man smiled gently. “I’m James,” he replied. Severus felt the tension drain out of his body. He vaguely remembered feeling hatred for the man before him, but it was all so disconnected now. James seemed to understand. “Sometimes you can remember,” he said, “but usually it’s muted. I think some feelings disappear all together…” his voice trailed off as the sound of barking, sharp and loud, reached their ears.

Severus felt his heart begin to pound. “Sirius,” he half-whispered, the name coming out as a question. His palms felt clammy. He swallowed hard, turning almost frightened eyes to James’ face. The other man laughed.

“Some things you feel just as strongly,” he replied cryptically. A woman materialized at his side, lithe and lean, with striking red hair and piercing green eyes. She touched James’ shoulder. They slid off into the fog. The dog barked again, behind him.

Severus gave up trying to see where James and Lily had gotten to, and instead turned toward the noise. He could see the dog now, advancing toward him rapidly, a blur cutting a dark swathe through the haze. Swallowing again, he took a trembling step toward it, and then another. Soon he was running.

They met, Sirius transforming in mid-step, and stopped only inches from each other. “Severus,” the animagus breathed. “Welcome home.” He reached one hand out as if to touch the other man, let it hang in the air, unsure, and then moved to drop it, losing courage. Severus caught it up in his own.

“Sirius Black,” he replied, tracing the long fingers with his own. “I remember. You kissed me.”

“I waited for you.” Sirius reached out again, this time not losing his nerve, and pulled Severus into an embrace. “I’m sorry it took you so long to get here.” Severus couldn’t repress the shudder that ran through him, and the other man held him tighter, murmuring into his ear, freeing his hand from Severus’ grip to stroke the Potions master’s back. “I’m sorry, Severus. Hush. I watched you for so long – I didn’t want to scare you, so I came as Padfoot. I wanted to kill Malfoy, those bastards, I’m sorry…” Severus was shocked to realize that Sirius was crying. He pulled back, reaching up to touch the tears in wonder.

“It’s over,” he replied, testing the idea out. It had been a long time since he had first been captured, and he had never really expected it to end – he had longed for it, dreamed of it, hoped for it and dreaded it, but he’d never actually believed the end would come. “It’s over,” he repeated, feeling his eyes tear up. He tried to pull away, to hide as he would have in life, but Sirius wouldn’t let him go.

“There is nothing to hurt you here, Severus,” he said gently. “You’re beyond all suffering here.” He pulled the other man back into an embrace. Severus relaxed into it.

“You kissed me,” he reminded after a moment. “And then you went off and died, and I never got an explanation for the kiss.”

Sirius laughed. “I didn’t have one at the time anyway!” he exclaimed. “Maybe it was better that I died then. I have a feeling that if I’d lived, my bumbling confusion would have only made you angry.” Severus conceded the point silently, and after a moment the other man continued. “I know now, though. I love you, Severus Snape. I can’t explain my previous behaviour – except to say that for all the pushing I did to get you away from me, I could never pull my thoughts from you. My heart is for you.”

Severus caught his breath. He couldn’t hold the tears back now; maybe Sirius was right and they didn’t matter. “I – I don’t think anyone else has ever loved me except Albus,” he murmured. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Sirius replied. He lifted Severus’ face up to his, meeting the dark eyes. Slowly, deliberately, he brought his face close to the other man, brushing his lips against the other’s. Severus’ lips parted slightly as he drew a breath, and Sirius used the opportunity to follow the air with his tongue, exploring Severus’ mouth. A tongue tentatively met his and touched, and Sirius smiled against the pliant lips. Severus smiled back.

“So, what do dead people do?” The Potions master asked, overwhelmed and needing space.

Sirius recognized the need and let him pull back a bit, laughing at the question. “Well, there’s haunting,” he suggested, laughing harder at the way in which Severus’ eyes lit up.

“Malfoy?” the other man asked, excited. “No – Longbottom!”

Throughout the fog, even those who had lost all meaning and understanding paused for a moment at the sound of laughter, and their hearts warmed inexplicably. A long way off, sitting thoughtfully at his desk, Albus Dumbledore looked up for a moment, as if listening. Then he smiled. It seemed as if his wayward sons were coming home.

**The Beginning.**

 


End file.
